


Stet Fortuna Domas

by wintergrey



Series: Vade Mecum [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Friendship, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2038671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintergrey/pseuds/wintergrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Let the fortune of the house stand.</i>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“I love you, baby.” Now, Sam’s hands on Steve’s back are gentle, soothing him with slow strokes. “I’m sorry I left.”</p>
  <p>“No, no.” Steve punctuates the words with more kisses. “I’m sorry I gave you any reason.” He pulls back to see Sam’s face in the shadows cast by his own body. “I would have left, though, if you’d needed me gone. You didn’t have to go if you could have stayed without me here. I don’t ever want you to think you can’t be in our home, Sam.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Stet Fortuna Domas

Steve is alone in the dark and, for a moment, he wonders if he’s still in his last nightmare. The bed next to him still holds the impression of Sam’s body in the crumpled sheets but it’s cold. There’s light slanting in under the door, though, probably from the kitchen. Steve rolls out of bed and fumbles on his jeans before he goes looking for Sam.

Sam’s standing in the kitchen at the edge of the circle of light cast by the lamp over the table. A box of cold pizza is open on the table in front of him, the light glints off the brown glass of a beer bottle as he drinks. His skin is glowing with dampness, shades darker than the bottle.

He’s still the most beautiful man Steve’s ever seen. It’s hard to miss when he’s dressed in nothing but those fatigue pants that hang low on his hips. No boots this time. Steve doesn’t want to see those boots again—somehow they’re stamped in his mind with the memory of Sam leaving—but all Steve can do to control that is to take better care of the man he loves.

“Did I wake you?” Sam puts the beer down to take another slice of pizza. Steve can smell the familiar soap they both use now. That explains the dampness of Sam’s perfect skin. Steve just wants to touch him to be sure he’s real, that he’s here, and not stop. Ever.

“No. Woke up and you were gone. Can’t believe I slept through the shower running.” Steve comes over, giving in to seeking comfort. He leans against the counter beside Sam, slides his arm across Sam’s belly, and Sam presses close against him. “Glad you’re eating.” Steve kisses the warm place behind Sam’s ear where he smells like safety and everything good in Steve’s life.

“Well, I had other things in my mouth when I got home,” Sam says, then kisses Steve with his lips and tongue cold and tasting like beer. “How’d I do this time?”

“Oh, very… very good, yes.” Steve’s cheeks are hot with the memory of it. Not just his cheeks. “Though I kind of missed the teeth,” he adds between kisses, trying to keep a straight face.

“Fuck you.” Sam nips at Steve’s lower lip, sharp teeth stinging, then he laughs. “There, happy now?”

“Better. That other part was also excellent, for the record.” Steve gives in to laughing as well and kisses Sam again. Sam puts his pizza down, apparently to have a hand free to grope Steve’s ass while they’re kissing.

They hadn’t eaten, hadn’t talked. There’d been a lot of not talking, as soon as they were out of the car. They’d meant to talk, Steve is sure of it, but talking hadn’t happened. Not in the rush of being together again and remembering each other. It had been hours of really amazing not-talking.

“Good. Wanted you to remember why you like having me around,” Sam teases—teases, but it hurts anyway. Steve cups Sam’s face in his hands, kisses him on the mouth, hard. There’s a clatter as Sam puts the beer down, then his arms are around Steve, his strong hands splayed over Steve’s back to pull him in close.

“I can’t forget why I like having you around,” Steve whispers against Sam’s mouth. “That’d be like forgetting why I like to breathe.”

“I love you, baby.” Now, Sam’s hands on Steve’s back are gentle, soothing him with slow strokes. “I’m sorry I left.”

“No, no.” Steve punctuates the words with more kisses. “I’m sorry I gave you any reason.” He pulls back to see Sam’s face in the shadows cast by his own body. “I would have left, though, if you’d needed me gone. You didn’t have to go if you could have stayed without me here. I don’t ever want you to think you can’t be in our home, Sam.”

“Baby.” Sam exhales slowly, then leans in to put his head on Steve’s shoulder. It’s the sweetest feeling in the world, Sam leaning on him. “I don’t want to bring that home. I don’t want to hurt you with things… things that aren’t your problem. I don’t want to track that dirt into the house, you know?”

“Oh, Sam.” Steve’s certain he can hear his own heart crack in his chest. Any pain he felt from falling, from Sam leaving, is nothing compared to hearing that. He cradles Sam against him, covers Sam’s head with one hand as though somehow he can protect Sam from the world. “You bringing your pain home to me isn’t tracking in dirt. Anything you share with me is a gift, Sam. I want all of you here. I didn’t sign on to love the parts of you that were convenient. I love you down to the broken places, I promise.”

Sam is quiet for a long time, then he nods against Steve’s shoulder. “Okay. I believe you. You are a big enough fool to actually mean that.”

“Loving people apparently makes me extra stupid, so you can be sure of it.” Steve kisses Sam’s temple, then his jaw, then the softness underneath. He loves that tender place, leaves bruises on it sometimes that just barely show through the shadows and the darkness of Sam’s skin. “If you have to go, of course you go, do whatever helps. But I’ll come with you, if you’ll let me.”

“It’s hard to be inside. To be happy. Because I don’t know where he is.” Sam’s voice shakes a little on the last words. Steve knows exactly who he means and how that feels. He understands now, for real, what Natasha meant about their wounds matching.

“We need to find him, then.” Steve has no idea how to go about that, but they can do it.

They’ve found Bucky—Bucky found them. Sam had time to fill Steve in on that on the way home, at least. Bucky’s got Sam’s key and everything, all he has to do is come home when he’s ready. Steve has faith in him, that he’ll get here.

“Tony says he’ll look for Riley,” Sam says. It takes Steve a moment to work out that he means Tony Stark. Tony Stark the flaky, self-absorbed multi-billionaire. The universe seems out of joint but Steve’s going to go with it.

“You talked to Tony?” Steve is sure this will make sense on some level, once he has all the information. Even if it doesn’t, he’ll go along with anything that makes things better for Sam.

“He called me. I wasn’t the only one having a bad night. Apparently being around you means picking up all these other people,” Sam says, pulling back to eye Steve somewhat accusingly. “It was good to talk to him anyway. He’s got people. Ways to get it done. Says we’ll find him. Our gear was Stark tech, maybe that’ll help.”

“Good.” Steve has never appreciated Tony so much as he does right in this moment, both for the offer and for somehow, unexpectedly, being someone Sam could confide in about Riley. Funny how one thing like that can cast a person in a whole new light. Steve kisses Sam’s forehead. “That’s very good. If you need me for any of it, I’ll be there.”

“I want to lie next to you with a roof over our heads and not feel like it’s something indecent,” Sam says quietly. “At least if I’m outside, I feel a little closer to him.”

“If it’s outside, you need, we can do that.” Steve steps back and offers Sam one hand. “Natasha made me buy you a porch swing—and put it together, which was the hard part. If you’re being pedantic it’s a balcony swing now. In other news, Natasha can be extremely pedantic. Come on, I’ll show you the end result.”

“What else did you do while I was gone?” Sam takes Steve’s hand and lets Steve lead him out onto the balcony. “Tell me you washed my car. Because a clean car is very sexy, you should know.”

“I thought I’d save me washing your car for when you’re here,” Steve offers. He stops just outside and pulls Sam against him for another kiss as he flips off the light, then closes the door behind them. Now it’s just them and the dark and the very distant sound of cars. “Get you a lawn chair and you can sit out under that tree to watch me.”

“Oh, see, this is why I love you.” Sam kisses him back, laughing. “You’re always thinking of ways to make me happy. I’ll get a pair of scissors and an old pair of your jeans, make you something to wear while you get all sweaty on my behalf—that and nothing else. Maybe put in a petition to make it your new uniform.”

“I’m not sure that’s patriotic enough,” Steve says seriously.

“Believe me, I feel pretty damn patriotic at the idea of watching your fine ass in a torn-up little pair of shorts.” Sam pulls Steve closer to make his point. “At attention and everything. I could run a flag up that.”

“Hm, I don’t think we have a flag here at home, would you settle for me? I am a symbol of our great nation, after all.” Steve is about ready to do that all over again here and now. “It says so on a plaque somewhere, even.”

“How sturdy is this balcony swing?” Even in the near dark, the wolfishness of Sam’s grin is clear enough to make Steve’s breath catch.

“Let’s find out.” Steve gets them moving that way again.

The swing is big, almost too big for the space, but Natasha insisted on that—and pillows, and blankets. It’s really more of a suspended couch, which got Steve a fierce scowl when he pointed it out in the store. The moment Steve settles down on the swing with Sam tucked up against him and his arm around Sam, he knows it’s perfect.

“Natasha makes some good choices. I like your friends,” Sam says softly. “They’re good people, all of them.”

“I’m lucky that way.” Steve trails his fingers down the rippled muscles of Sam’s bare side.

“I think it’s more than you being lucky, baby. I think most of it is you.”

“Sam.” Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t feel deserving of any sort of kindness like that.

“Steve. Baby. Take a damn compliment,” Sam says bluntly.

“I’m not feeling it much, Sam. I fucked up,” Steve says helplessly. “How the hell did I do that to you? I left you. I jumped off a bridge right in front of you. I didn’t think.” Now that he’s saying it, his palms are sweaty and his stomach churns. He has to get up, to pace the balcony and breathe. The memory of it horrifies him.

“You didn’t think, I know.” Sam’s voice is gentle, like cool water on the heat of Steve’s frustration. “Me being messed up about it wasn’t your fault.”

“But…” Steve turns around to argue the point.

“Nope, I’m talking now.” Sam cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture and Steve makes himself shut up, just listen. “We can’t play ‘whose fault is it’ when this shit happens, Steve. We just gotta deal with it when it does. Maybe a little better than the other day but it didn’t go so bad.”

“You left,” Steve protests. No, worse than that. “I hurt you.”

“You made a bad choice. Bad tactics. You put us and Bucky at risk. Bucky is a grown-ass super soldier assassin with more years in the field than everyone we know put together,” Sam says slowly. He’s not accusatory, just honest, and it helps. “He was probably in less danger landing on his own than with you hanging onto him.”

“I get that now. I couldn’t see it then.” Steve leans against the railing and runs his hands over his face.

“We can’t mix up getting our relationship right with our strategy for dealing with HYDRA, though, Steve.” Sam shakes his head. “We just have to scrap the whole mess. Call it a learning experience. In a way, I’m glad you did it.”

“How?” Steve is totally confused now. He really wishes alcohol still worked on him, the world might make more sense if he were drunk sometimes.

“Because you weren’t thinking about me.” Sam holds up a hand before Steve can say anything. “I can’t be in this thing with you as a liability. We both messed up by going in there as civilians. But I need you to be able to forget me. I need you to trust me to survive. So you can do the things that make you great. Get it?”

Steve nods. He gets it—he just doesn’t agree with it, so fiercely that he can’t get the words straight yet.

“We made it through the last couple days.” Sam exhales slowly, then pats the seat beside him. “We all did. We’ll do better next time.”

“We done talking about me now?” Steve has things to say that are going to crawl out between his ribs if he doesn’t get them said the usual way. He crosses the balcony to kneel in front of Sam because he needs Sam to see his face when he says them.

“Yeah, done.” Sam reaches out to stroke his cheek. “Your turn.”

“Okay. I heard what you had to say about what happened and me needing to do my job.” Steve looks into Sam’s eyes and he can hardly breathe at the thought of never doing it again. “I’m not glad I did it. I’m not glad I forgot you. I don’t want you to justify it with some rational explanation. I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Sam says, after thinking it over for a moment. “Apology accepted. Baby…”

“I’m talking now,” Steve says, turning Sam’s words back on him. “I’ll trust you to survive. I’ll trust you to have my back. But we’re a team now. I didn’t act like it and I let you down. It won’t happen again. Making you a priority isn’t a distraction from whatever you think makes me great. It’s essential. You’ll have to put up with that if we’re going to work together.”

Sam bites his lip as though he wants to argue so badly but at the same time his eyes are unexpectedly full of tears and he looks away from Steve.

“No arguing,” Steve says, before Sam can compose himself enough to talk. “Me putting you first will never be about you being a liability. It’ll be because you matter that much, because you’re worth it. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Sam says at last, though it comes out ragged. He blinks and a couple inconvenient tears finally lose their grip on his lashes. “I wanted to help you and I couldn’t and you fell and I couldn’t do anything. I was useless. Just useless.” He gestures helplessly before he lets his hands fall limp in his lap.

“I fucked it up.” Steve wipes the tears away, then kisses Sam on the mouth. “I should never have done that to you. You are never useless, Sam. I put you in an impossible position. You paid for my mistake and that should never happen.”

“It’s—” Sam is about to say something like ‘it’s okay’ or ‘it’s not your fault’, when he gets a look at Steve’s expression. Whatever it is makes him stop and laugh, shedding his distress. “Okay, yeah, I’m talking shit. You were really damn stupid the other day. I love you anyway. You know that, right?”

“Never doubted it for a minute.” Steve kisses him again, longer this time. “We’ll get this teamwork thing down. I promise.”

“We should start now,” Sam says solemnly. “The teamwork thing. You and me. Working together.”

“And how’s that?” Steve knows that look: big brown eyes and serious mouth and all kinds of trouble hiding behind them.

“I need your help testing this swing out.” Somehow, Sam says it with a straight face. “For America.” There it is. The trouble.

“Oh, well, for America,” Steve says, laughing. “How can I say no? I mean, it’s right in my name and everything.”

“Damn right, Captain America.” Sam snaps his fingers. “Get those pants off.”

“Out here?” Steve is suddenly having second thoughts about this.

“It’s three in the morning, what are you afraid of?” Sam beckons to him, grinning, as he slides back to sprawl out on the swing. “You’re still allowed to get into trouble, man. Just not without me. We’re bonding here. It’s for America, Steve.”

“So you keep telling me, but I am suspecting an ulterior motive.” Steve crawls up over Sam and kisses him on the mouth as Sam starts undoing his jeans. “The things I do for my country.”


End file.
